PS 3535 
.017 L3 
1908 
Copy 1 






The Last Salute 
and Other Poems 

By Cassius M.Roberts ^jr>- 




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COPYRIGHT DEPOSITS 



THE LAST SALUTE 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY THE 



REVEREND CASSIUS MARCUS ROBERTS, A.M. 



Philadelphia 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 

1908 



rLiBWAKY of CON^"S,.ist 
I wo Oopies rtBCeiv^i' 

L—_- 99^' ^ - -' 



Copyright, 1908 

by 
L. M. ROBERTS 






^ TO HIS MANY FRIENDS BOTH EAST AND WEST 

) THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED 

BY 
HIS WIFE 



■fft requires mucb fattb to print a booft of poems— 

irt requires more to senJ) tbe booft to one's trienDs. 

■ff pras sou iuDge me lententlg for tbe first, 

HnO ftinDlB tox tbe seconD— 

3for faitb is tbe brotber of bope 

anD tbe cbilD of love, 

2lnD tbese tbree abide forever. 

Zbe autbor. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Author's Foreword 7 

1. The Last Salute. Part 1 9 

ij^ « « « "2 10 

3. The Cry of the Soul 11 

4. To AN Uncaged Bird 12 

5. A Summer Evening on the Sound at Low Tide 13 

6. " For it is God That Worketh in You." — St. Paul .... 15 
" Love JIoves the Sun and the Other Stars." — Dante ... 15 

7. A Su3imer Morning 18 

8. An Easter Vision 19 

9. The Ocean's Shore 21 

10. Welcome for a House 24 

11. Hymn — For the Consecration of a Church 25 

1a?. a Prayer 27 

13. To a Moonless Night 29 

14. A Spring Morning 31 

15. A Broken Flower 33 

16. Sonnet 35 

17. De Profundis 36 

18. The Suppliant, the Prayer, and the Answer 37 

19. The Resurrection and the Life 40 

20. The Christmastide 42 

21. A Song of the New Year 43 

22. Kenyon Alumni Hymn 44 

23. A Summer Sunset on the Coast of New Jersey 46 

24. A Rainy Day in October 48 

25. To Two Little Maidens 50 

26. To Miss R. McC 51 

27. To a Butterfly 52 

28. The Concertina Player 54 

29. New Year's Eve — Two Voices 57 

30. In Response to a Message From W. G 60 

31. Abraham Lincoln, on the 94th Anniversary of His Birth . . 61 

32. The Mystery of Suffering 63 

33. " And yet I am not Alone Because the Father is With Me " . 64 

34. On Meeting a Blind-Man in the Street 65 

35. The Question 67 

36. To A Poetess at Eighty Years 69 

37. A Christmas Greeting 70 

38. To My Pipe 72 

39. Our Bungalow 73 

40. Unfinished Fragment 75 



THE LAST SALUTE 

TO W. B. B. 

June, 1907 

We never have run about the braes 

Nor pulled the gowans fine, 
But we fought the devil of modern days, 

And we led our battle line. 

We broke the bread and we blessed the cup. 
And prayed and preached and sang; 

Together we held the Lord Christ up 
Where the conflict fiercest rang. 

And ever as His battalions trod 
The way they would not yield, 

We held it best if the peace of God 
Brought death on the battlefield. 

O comrade, I, for the brave, brave fight. 

Salute your honor high. 
Who never turned for an instant's flight, 

Nor saw with a coward's eye. 

]VIy hand in faith and my heart in love, 

And ever my prayer anew. 
That you strike once more for God above. 

And that I may strike with you. 



[9] 



October, 1907 

In vain I wait to hear thy tread 

Come softly down the aisle, 
They tell me thou art gone ahead 

And I must wait awhile. 

And when I longing look to see 

What I shall see no more, 
How can I walk alone where we 

Together walked before? 

Dear hand, that held the Spirit's blade 

And Cross before mine eyes, 
Dear heart, that gave mine accolade — 

" Soldier, in Christ arise ! " 

How can I strike for God — alone — 

Where fell thy sword arm low. 
When all my spirit caught the tone 

And rhythm of thy blow ? 

O father, brother, guide and friend, 

comrade, true and tried, 
Pray God for me that at the end 

1 die as thou hast died. 

Note: — The second part of The Last Salute written after the death 
of Dr. Bodine was the author's last finished poem. 



[10] 



THE CRY OF THE SOUL 

God, I am weary and my quest 
Is now for rest, Lord, only rest; 
I lift my heart from thronging griefs 
Through ranging highlands of beliefs. 

I see the sin, I see the death, 

I know the curse in human breath, 

I feel the misery of woe; 

My soul is low, Lord, very low. 

With captain and with captain's clan, 
I fight and struggle as I can. 
Yet still the mighty hold the seat 
And I know little but defeat. 

Strong seems the wrong and weak the right, 
And few there be that faithful fight; 
Thy heaven is far, the world is near. 
And faith prostrates itself to fear. 

We need Thee, Lord ; more than Thy grace 
We need to look upon Thy face; 
We need to know Thee close at hand 
That we, when beaten, still may stand. 

Weak man I am and where I come 
The wicked mock and I am dumb; 
God, I am weary and my quest 
Is now for rest. Lord, only rest. 

[11] 



TO AN UNCAGED BIRD 

A weary bird within a cage, 

Faintly, O Lord, he sings to Thee 
One little quavering note, 
The melody of rote, 

Instead of that full-throated minstrelsy 
Which burneth in his heart, a noble rage 
That nothing can assuage 

Save hills and forests broad, where he 

Can flit from tree to tree 

Like the free spirit of a pure democracy. 

There filleth he the listening earth 

With freedom's sweetest challenge high, 
And splendidly are rolled 
His bars of liquid gold 

Up the long arches of the templed sky. 
Oh thou, interpreter by right of birth 
Of nature's holy mirth. 

Thou Levite of the woodlands, fly, 

And, as thou passest by, 

Sing, for thy dumb jailor hath nothing but a cry. 

Thou sacred child of air and light; 

The forest that around thee rings 
Still unto thee belongs. 
With all its wondrous songs ; 
Thy title to it is thine outstretched wings. 
Soul of th' unbought wilderness, thy brave flight. 
On my enraptured sight. 

Fair visions of my dreamland, flings 
The grace of all free things. 

And in thine untaught song, my uncaged spirit sings. 
[12] 



A SUMMER EVENING ON THE SOUND AT LOW TIDE 

The lonely clammer leaves the bar 
Where all the day he plied his trade, 

As o'er the meadows, dim and far. 

The lights of evening flash and fade. 

The ceaseless tides that through the deep 

Forever roll their weight along, 
Here gently thrill as though asleep 

And rippling sing their rhythmic song. 

A single sea-gull swiftly speeds 

On eager wings towards the sea ; 
A marsh-hen cackles in the reeds. 

And somehow peace has come to me. 

A strange sweet stillness settles down, 

That is not silence to the soul; 
As when from some far distant town 

We hear the bells at evening toll. 

And on the low horizon's rim 

The rising clouds are slow uncurled. 

Till mountain masses, black and grim. 
Seem building walls around the world. 

And in this vast cathedral calm. 

Of earth and sky and sea and air. 

Where every sound is like a psalm. 
And all the silence like a prayer; 

[131 



Oh minster towers, how dim je seem! 

Oh calling bells, how far from here ! 
In this sweet peace I scarce can dream 

Of men that sin and curse and fear. 

And so I listen to the waves 

That lightly lap along the shore, 

And hear no note of storm that raves, 
Nor echo from the tempest's roar. 

Far from the world with all its care; 

Far from follies and its fears; 
There yet is something in the air 

That's strangely near akin to tears. 

Those tears that mingle with our blood. 
And flow when hearts are overfull; 

For melancholy marks the good. 
And sadness all the beautiful. 

Volcanic soul, whose nether fires 

Still fiercely bum along thy veins. 

Thou willful child of strong desires, 
Stand still awhile where heaven reigns. 

Some oversoul of sweet release ; 

Some shadowy but Almighty hand. 
Is blending thee with all the peace 

That falls across this meadow-land. 



[14] 



"For it is God that worketh in you." — St. Paul. 
" Love moves the sun and the other stars.'''' — Dante. 

PART ONE 

The flattering day had soothed my pride 
With triumphs over trifling things ; 

I walked the earth half deified, 

And Folly measured me with kings. 

When, lo! I looked into the night; 

I saw the heavens and heard the sea; 
And, somehow, at the awful sight, 

I withered in immensity. 

What art thou, man? Lord of the sphere, 
The lightnings in thy countenance? 

Or but the child of nameless Fear 
And tangled mystery of Chance? 

Oh, reader, as an open page 

The changeful moods of day and night! 
Oh, watcher, on th' eternal stage 

The drama of tlie infinite! 

Stand still, soul, and hear the voice 

Forever old, forever new; 
Stand still, O soul, hear and rejoice 

And read the riddle that is you. 



[15] 



PART TWO 

Last night the moon was large and red 
And crimson as a warrior's shield; 

As though a million men had bled 
On some vast lunar battlefield. 

The sea beneath her heaved and tossed 
And moaned as one in mortal pain; 

And, like the spirits of the lost. 

The winds caught up the sad refrain. 

They told it to each listening star, 

For, one by one, they drooped and paled, 

Till o'er the heavens, dim and far. 

They moved like mourners, deeply veiled. 

To-night the moon is bright and fair, 

Bathing the world in liquid light; ♦ 

The sea is calm, the lilting air 
Is sensuous with pure delight. 

And not a cloud obscures the sky; 

No tremor shakes the golden-rod; 
A myriad stars flame out on high 

Like candles round the throne of God. 



[16] 



PART THREE 

Oh heart of man that sobs or sings, 
Oh soul with power to bless and curse, 

That subtle sympathy of things 
Which grandly tunes the universe, 

That harmony which moves upon 
The chaos of the spatial throng, 

Is but the outer antiphon 

Responding to the inner song. 

Hark then! the voice of prophecy 
Which calls thee even from the dust; 

Thy universe is God and thee, 

And all its message — love and trust. 

And sun and moon and stars and sea 
Shall be the vassals of thy will, 

And deep as God's eternity 

Shall run His Avord — Rise and fulfill. 



[17] 



A SUMMER MORNING 

The last star flings its glittering lance 
Against the helm of dawn, 

A million golden splinters dance 
About the dewy lawn. 

Before the heralds of the day 

The fleeing shadows go, 
Far up the hills they troop away 

With banners trailing low. 

Look thou, my love, into the skies 
Where morning's splendors shine. 

That see I, Love, in thy dear eyes. 
That thou shouldst see in mine. 



[18] 



AN EASTER VISION 

There's something mystic in the morn, — 

A wondrous grace of modest hesitation, — 
As when the woman, newly born, 

Awakens from her maiden meditation. 
And, hfting unaccustomed eyes 

Upon a wholly new and strange creation, 
She watches with a sad surprise 
While all her old world slowly dies 

And her assurance turns to consternation. 

How blessed then the yesterdays 

That clasp the priceless gems of her affection, 
And, in her soul's complete amaze, 

Still binds her in unbreakable connection 
With all the memories of things 

That were to her a changeless benediction; 
And faith, amidst the ruinings 
Of faith, still keeps her deathless kings, 

And contradicts the sternest contradiction. 

So, trembling in the fearful gloom, 

Came Mary hasting that first Easter morning; 
She brought some spice and sweet perfume, — 

Her woman's treasure for her own adorning. 
But ah, her faithful heart had brought 

What little dreamed she was her finer treasure, 
That thing which only God hath wrought, 
That thing the raptured saints have sought. 

And faith perceives in death — life's vaster measure. 



[19] 



There is a life that's only death, 

A breathing chaos, cursing with affliction; 
There is a life that's more than death, 

And triumphs over every crucifixion; 
And Mary, Mary's soul above 

Saw realms beyond the realms of death's disaster; 
She heard the voice of perfect love, 
And, like a lonely homing dove, 

Fled to Him crying out, " Rabboni," Master. 

There is in every little seed 

That dares to lift its heart toward things sidereal. 
What laws of nature cannot breed, — 

What does not slumber in the mere material; 
For life is ever more than bread ; 

We heed nor hear the voice of desolation; 
'And o'er the graves of millions dead 
We lift a fearless shining head, 

And sing of everlasting consolation. 



[20] 



THE OCEAN'S SHORE 

That narrow shifting line between the sand and sea, 

That place where land and water meet — 

The Ocean's shore — 

I've seen again and heard its voice — great Nature's voice 

That's never stilled nor changed nor falsified 

From the far morning of this world's day. 

No man hath ever writ upon that line, " I'm master here," 
But a few ripples from the soundless deep hath rolled above 
And left it all as smooth and clean as the untouched sky. 
Here undisputed Nature speaks her sovereign will, and here this 

mad world 
Comes to hear, and mayhap touch her floating robe 
And, from its healing hem, find its sweet sanity again. 

There is a holy and a ghostly power untrammelcd Nature ever 

has 
To so hold the mirror of her faultless truth to each man's face. 
That he shall see the deeps divinely set within himself, 
And be himself and glory in himself for what he is. 
Why, 'tis a place where fools seem called to babble folly. 
And 'tis a place where silent sages stand and humbly wait 
To hear in soothing harmonies the voice of God. 

O man, that standest idly where the land and water meet. 

Behold th' unanswering shore that's patient still through ever- 
lasting blows. 

And then the shouting sea, courageous still through everlasting 
toil. 

And 'twixt these two a contest glorious that ends not nor abates 
forever. 

[21] 



And thinkest thou Omnipotence is running to thy feet these 

leaping waves 
For nothing but to beat their noisy fury into silence here 
Upon this senseless and this unresisting sand? I tell thee now 
That God is holding up the mirror to thine own face : 
Here thy dull ears are hearing full within thy solitary world 
Thine own imperial must and slavish cannot at a breath ; 
And here the fluid freedom of thy future cries, to thy unheed- 
ing soul, 
Its bitter protest at the stony bondage of thy present to thy 
dead past. 

O 'tis a joy fit for a god to know such deeps and heights of 

power 
Within ourselves, that we may fearless front the problems of 

our universe; 
But 'tis a grief that beggars words to feel the fear that dares 

not; 
To hear within our souls the cry of chaos for the king's law 
And never dare to answer like a king. 

The shore, eternally defiant, stands in moanless silence 
'Neath the everlasting blows of Ocean's wrath and answers not 
Through all a million years of changeless contest: 
And the sea, ever gathering up her broken and retreating 

columns 
To hurl them all afresh upon her ancient enemy with shouts 
Of thunderous protest that abates nor changes not with time, 
Neither conquering nor conquered — an elemental and, at times. 
Infuriate war would crush the iron navies of the earth like 

rotted straw. 

[22] 



What means this riddle that outreaches time — this truceless 

conflict — 
But that, betwixt the sullen shore's, " I will not," and the 

Ocean's stern, " I will," 
God grinds the stufF with which He builds in beauty and in 

glory 
This sohd and majestic world? 

And yet I've seen a peace so gentle and so kind 
Upon that line that helpless babes might play there, 
And the long waves, that rolled from out the mighty deep 
And flung themselves upon the shore in endless crashings, 
But seemed to cradle in the Eternal's calm my tired soul. 



[23] 



WELCOME — FOR A HOUSE 

Friendship is that holy estate into which none can enter 
save only the elect of God. 

This house that's mine is also thine, 
O friend that comes to tarry here ; 

All welcomes greet thj' ent'ring feet, 
And ev'ry comfort of good cheer. 

May all the wealth of gracious health 

Still, still be thine through length of days; 

And not a fear and not a tear. 

And God to keep thee young always. 

Bring peace of mind and thou shalt find 
A welcome here that never ends; 

Within these walls and narrow halls 

There's hearth and home for all our friends. 

Joy unconfined shall draw the blind 
And lure old Time to stop and nod; 

Our fire ahght shuts out the night, 
Come in and leave the world to God. 



[24] 



HYMN 

FOR THE CONSECEATION OF A CHURCH 

House of the living God; 

Enriched by praise and prayer; 
Here, Lord, we bend beneath Thy rod, 

Believing in Thy care. 
Make this Thy temple stand 

While mortal hearts still bleed; 
A mighty rock in a weary land 

And refuge in our need. 

Within these hallowed walls 

And spacious aisles between, 
Grant, Lord, to whomsoever calls 

Thy glory may be seen. 
Here may the sinner turn; 

The troubled find Thy peace ; 
Thy lamp of love forever burn 

And ever more increase. 

Here lift the souls that grieve; 

And stop the tears tliat flow; 
And teach Thy people to believe 

What saints and angels know. 
And grant each contrite heart 

And broken be refreshed; 
Till every sorrow shall depart 

Through Thee, O Christ, confessed. 



[25] 



Here, Lord, Thine altars raise, 

And pour Thy waters blest, 
Till heaven and earth shall sing Thy praise 

And all the weary rest. 
Still for the battles' strife 

Our courage, Lord, renew; 
Lift up the gates of heavenly life 

And let the King come through. 

Amen. 

Sung at the Consecration of the Church of the Saviour, 
November 20th, 1906. 



[26] 



A PRAYER 

O God, these myriads, unelect, 

Who seethe and sour in bitter talk. 

Who crawl and grovel, unerect. 
And never rise and never walk; 

To whom the earth, with all its wealth, 
Is but a carcass where to feed; 

And every sweet impulse of health 
Is cursed by the laws of greed; 

Whose lives are like the clouded sea, 
Where every sail is reefed and still. 

And arching their eternity 

Seems nothing but a sullen will; 

Where all the waves that by them roll 
But sweep their unresisting decks, 

And not a wind from pole to pole 
But beats them into heavier wrecks; 

Who feel no pains save those that hurt. 
Who only know to curse and grope. 

These dead that live — these poor inert — 
Without a star of faith or hope; 

Lord, wake for them some mighty seer. 
Some prophet with a living tongue. 

Whose life shall be the atmosphere 
Of deeds and worlds forever young. 

[27] 



Serene amidst the storms that roll, 
So let him stand that these may see, 

And show to every troubled soul, 
That man's the only mystery; 

That God and man are only one, 
And death and hell but seem to be. 

Through every darkness shines Thy Sun, 
And time is Thy eternity. 



[28] 



TO A MOONLESS NIGHT 

How beautiful is night, 
When, with the hght, 
The common things of day 
Have passed away. 

I love the somber dark 
That clothes a stark 
Old Nature's war-worn face 
With holy grace. 

The comedies in dust, 
Of fear and lust; 
All vanish from the sight 
Before the night. 

Away beyond the clouds 
The world enshrouds, 
When nothing earthly mars 
The flaming stars. 

My soul takes freedom's wings 
And, soaring, sings; 
No sun, no moon, no earth, 
No death, no birth, 

No ghostly fears to loom 
Out of the gloom. 
In all the Universe 
Never a curse. 

[29] 



The domed and templed skies. 
Before my eyes, 
And all the Infinite 
Where God is light. 



[30] 



A SPRING MORNING 

The gusty wind blows from the sea, 
The clouds swing high above, 

A meadow-lark sings on the lea 
His song of brooding love. 

The shading light, through grassy fields. 

Runs like a soft caress, 
As when a maiden bends and yields 

To love that comes to bless. 

O morning time in mooding time, 

When souls together sweep ; 
O morning time in brooding time, 

When only love is deep ; 

When kindness does not know 'tis kind, 
For wounds are not yet sore; 

With Eden but a step behind 
And all the world before — 

Sing, soul of youth, thy heart is strong, 

Thy blood is full of fire; 
Sing out, O Soul, thy wonder song. 

The song of thy desire. 

The raptures of the waking day 

Prophetic round thee roll, 
Thy feet are eager for the way 

And songs are in thy soul. 

[31] 



iThy foes have never yet been born, 
Thy battles not conceived; 

And half thy hope is in the scorn 
Of faith still undeceived. 

For age to thee is Folly's fee, 

And weakness only sin, 
And all thy future, wild and free, 

Is thine to conquer in. 

Let evening come with ]\Iercy's cry 

Before oblivious night, 
Around is the expanding sky, 

And life is all delight. 



[32] 



A BROKEN FLOWER 

/ saw a flower lift up its head. 
In crimson glory full outspread. 
It caught the rains the heavens shed; 
It broke and fell, and lo, 'txcas dead. 

How passing' strange a seed should be 
A prison for life's prophecy ; 
How stranger far the rain should free 
That life into this rhapsody — 

This rhapsody of color fine, 
And form that seems almost divine, 
Outmatcliing pubies crystalline 
As water is outmatched by wine. 

And yet the power that smote the cell 
Till bars and gates before it fell. 
Calling thenceforth with living spell 
This flower as fair as asphodel, 

Now smites without a sign of pain 
This flower of life to death again; 
In life, in death, without a stain; — 
Are life and death both in the rain? 

And is there something, then, of death 
That pulses in the living breath? 
And all our hopes, hath God thus saith : 
"The grave is all life off'ereth"? 

[S3] 



strange, flower and man together cry 
For blessings most supremely high; 
And when they come, together lie, 
Broken by fullness, wond'ring why. 

I felt that wonder in me swell, 
But, still believing all was well, 
I stooped above the flower that fell — 
A worm had done the deed of hell. 

Hell? Be it w^orm or wind or rain, 
'Twas hands of love the flower had slain, 
Nor heard I hand or flower complain, 
For Love and Life and Hope remain. 

Still in the broken stem there grew 
The power to bud and flower anew; 
Still there the living might that drew 
Love's blessings from the rain and dew. 

Above the wreck that round it lay 
Shone all the glory of the day; 
And in the breezes cradling sway 
Was power above the power to slay. 

O Lord, I'm weak from arrow stings 
The bow of my misfortune flings; 
Yet wake in me th' ethereal springs 
Of all divine imaginings. 

Till I can bear with perfect glance 
The splendor of Thy countenance; 
Keep Thou Thy law around my chance, 
Thy shadow o'er my circumstance. 
[34] 



SONNET 

ON A singer's triumph 

Drunken with praise and pleasure, lo, she stands 
And leans against the casement of the door ; 
Her head, queenlike, high flung, as looking o'er 
Some triumph that had brought her many lands 
To rule, and now, at her supreme commands, 
High fashion and fair beauty stop to pour, 
As they have done a thousand times before, 
Their homage free, enscept'ring her weak hands. 
The horses of Aurora might have felt 
As she; but not Aurora's self divine. 
Who, speeding o'er the heavens, calmly knelt 
And held with master hand the guiding line ; 
Nor on the glory of her labors dwelt ; — 
Her duty in the heavens was to shine. 



[35] 



DE PROFUNDIS 

Through heavy clouds that roll above the city ; 

Now here, now there, obscuring house and street ; 
Men, weary-eyed, look up and curse your pity; 

Out of the deeps where God and Mammon meet. 

What are the clouds that roll above the city? 

What are the clouds the winds blow not away? 
Incense from them' that troll the careless ditty, 

And stop to prate but never stoop to pray. 

Yonder they rise, the master in his palace 

Buildeth an altar to a ribald god; 
He is the priest that poureth in the chalice 

Wine from the blood where Honour's feet have trod. 

Dim through that haze, I see poor women's faces. 
Mute as the beasts that only look their wrong ; 

Out of young hearts where God has throned the graces, 
I hear a sob that ought to be a song. 

Woe to the world when Honour's courage falters, 
When honest toil shall ring no sacring bell ; 

Woe to the world when Labor rears no altars 
To God in heaven, for then our god's in hell. 

Out of the deeps men call upon their maker; 

O Jesu, hear and answer them right soon 
With help and hope, outside Thy waiting acre, 

Ere hopeless night shall cover helpless noon. 



[36] 



THE SUPPLIANT, THE PRAYER AND THE ANSWER 

The Suppliant: 

Well groomed he came, with quiet air, 

Into the church one Lenten day. 
And, in its atmosphere of prayer, 

He knelt and bowed his head to pray. 

He closed his eyes to shut without 

The world and all its sodden sin ; 
He needed not, for sodden doubt 

Long since had shut his soul within. 

Not doubt of Church, not doubt of creeds, 
Nor hell so deep, nor heaven so high; 

But doubt of any human needs, 

Which God had called him to supply. 

He saw the current of the years 

Run red with wrong, nor heard the cry 

Boom down the heavens for his ears: 
" Rise, son of man, and prophesy." 

He knew the greed that tortures man 
Nor raised his hand its curse to stay; 

He deemed it all was heaven's plan, 
And, calmly, he knelt down tO' pray. 



[37] 



The Prayer: 

Have mercy on my soul, O Lord, 

And speak to me Thy pard'ning word. 

Forgive my sin and set me free, 

That I may be at peace with Thee. 

For I have longed to see Thy face 

And feel Thy firm sustaining grace. 

On bended knee, with streaming eyes, 

My longing soul within me cries 

That I'm not worthy to unlace 

Thy very shoes, much less embrace 

With sinful eyes, Thy figure meek; 

Still, still I pray that Thou wouldst speak. 

And let me see Thy blessed face, 

And feel Thy firm sustaining grace. 



[38] 



The Answer: 

It is not words, it is not cries, 
Nor bended knee, nor streaming eyes; 
It is not groveling in thy gnef 
Shall bring thy soul a sweet relief. 
I'll walk with thee when thou art meek; 
When thou canst hear I'll freely speak. 
Lo, I have stood before thy door 
And begged for entrance o'er and o'er, 
A thousand times thou'st heard My cry, 
A thousand thou hast passed Me by. 
Thou'lt see Me on the icy street 
Where children walk with naked feet; 
Thou'lt hear My voice and catch My tone 
Where widows work and weep alone. 
While thou hast watched with eager eyes 
To see Me coming from the skies, 
With all the poor without thy gate 
I humbly stand and patient wait. 
Where love and truth have suffered loss, 
Lo, there I hang upon My cross ; 
Where faith hath wrought to set men free. 
My riven tomb, look there and see ; 
Where right hath found a martyr friend. 
There is the mount whence I ascend. 
And cross and tomb and Olivet 
Are waiting for thee, even yet. 
These prayers of thine are idle words. 
As actors play with guns and swords. 
When thou shalt make thy actions pray. 
Thy Lent shall have its Easter day, 
And heaven and earth and ev'ry place 
Shall speak My voice and show My face. 
[39] 



THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE 

The mom had hung her gauzy robe 
Of Hght 'twixt night and day ; 

Low in the west, the moon, a globe 
Of polished silver, lay. 

Like some fair spirit of delight 

Or Venus from the sea; 
The world, half risen from the night, 

Half hid in mystery. 

The white clouds lay, a level zone, 

On Nebo's mighty frame. 
And o'er them Pisgah rose and shone, 

An altar all aflame. 

The fading shades, like ancient ghosts 

Of curses grown af eared. 
Were sweeping past as all the hosts 

Of army light appeared. 

Life everywhere on wings of power 

Was rising from the tomb; 
Life everywhere! 'Twas like a flower 

Fresh bursting into bloom. 

No hurrying earthly voices broke 

The waiting stillness calm. 
But all the living silence spoke 

And said: " O man, I AM." 

[40] 



" I AM that rule the heaven and earth 
And roll the season's rhyme, 

Forever bringing to rebirth 
The age of evening time. 

" I build the mountain ; tear its crust ; 

By INIe its rocks are hurled ; 
I grind them into formless dust 

And so rebuild the world. 

*' I blow upon each living thing 

And wither it in death; 
I blow again and, lo, the Spring 

Is in My quickening breath. 

*' For I am God ; and Nature still, 

In every mood and grace, 
Does more than manifest My will; 

It hides or shows My face. 

" And is there Truth and is there Love 

That live and cannot die? 
O man, these things are from above, 

O man, these things am I. 

" The resurrection and the life 
Are in the night and morn; 

The universe, in peace, in strife, 
Proclaims the dead, the born." 



[41] 



THE CHRISTMASTIDE 

AN ECSTASY 

Awake, my soul, awake and sing 
The glory of the heavenly king; 
The King that maketh wars to cease. 
And bringeth peace, and bringeth peace. 

The nations wait to hear His tread 
For round Him wake tlie quick and dead ; 
And, in the darkness of their night, 
He bringeth light. He bringeth light. 

Lift up your heads, ye stricken men. 
He bringeth faith and hope again ; 
And, from the heart of God above, 
He bringeth Love, He bringeth Love. 

Then wake, my soul, awake and sing. 
And all your richest treasures bring ; 
For grace divine, salvation free, 
He bringeth thee. He bringeth thee. 

Ring out, ye bells, O ring away. 
The Christ of God is born to-day; 
The world is old, He makes it new ; 
O hallelu Jah, hallelu. 

O hearts of men, awake and sing. 
Let heaven and earth with praises ring; 
Tell out again this Christmas morn 
That Christ is born, that Christ is born. 
[42] 



A SONG OF THE NEW YEAR 

The old year, the cold year, 

Is numbered with the dead ; 

The new year, the true year. 

Is stretching fair ahead. 
Behind are all the miseries, before are all the joys; 
My soul leaps up and runs away as fearless as a boy's. 

But doubts come about some, 

And serpents wake with spring ; 

And health dies and wealth flies, 

And hearts forget to sing ; 
Lord Jesus, grant thy faith to us, thy loyalty of love ; 
That men may sing in all the earth as angels sing above. 

The heavens rang when the angels sang 

Their song on Judah's plain ; 

And near now we hear now 

That heavenly song again ; 
Our eyes shall see that glory and our ears shall hear complete. 
When hand in hand and heart to heart we walk with willing feet. 

Then my hand for thy hand 

And all our doubtings past ; 

And my heart for thy heart 

And love to bind them fast ; 
With Christ above at God's right hand, the Spirit full and free. 
Through ev'ry danger that may come, will still keep you and me. 



[43] 



KENYON ALUMNI HYMN 

Dear Kenyon, queen of mothers, 

Our memory's fondest shrine, 
We hail thee here as brothers 

And loyal sons of thine; 
Beneath thine ancient roof-tree. 

And in thy sacred walls. 
Again, again, we hail thee 

And ring it through thy halls. 

KEFRAIN. 

Then heart to heart, my brother. 
And here's my hand for you, 

We hail thee, Kenyon, Mother, 
And pledge thee here anew. 

Thou liftest up thy steeple 

High over hill and plain. 
To call among the people, 

" My sons, come home again ! " 
Our feet run far to meet thee, 

Our hearts leap up to bless. 
We stretch our hands to greet thee. 

And touch thee to caress. 

We join with long-gone pleasure 
In songs we used to sing. 

And, in the rolling measure, 
Our winters turn to spring: 



Dear Mother, though we've trodden 

A long and weary way, 
Our hearts are still unsodden. 

And we are boys to-day. 

God bless thee, Holy Mother, 

And keep thee pure and true, 
We love thee as none other. 

And pledge thee here anew. 
May all the breezes love thee. 

And float thy banners high. 
The heavens still shine above thee 

Forever and for aye. 



[45] 



A SUMMER SUNSET ON THE COAST OF NEW 

JERSEY 

How grandly doth the evening come. 

And yet how soft its shadows fall; 
No pageantry of trump and drum, 

Nor cannon's crash nor herald's call. 

The sun sinks slowly to his rest, 

In pearl and amber banks he sets, 
While up the arches of the West 

The fire-god flings his bannerets. 

Up, up a height of clouds immense 
They float in splendor o'er the skies. 

Till consciousness, absorbed in sense, 
Lives only in divine surprise. 

Far called by kindred elements, 

]\Iy answering spirit sweeps away 
To airy, firelit continents 

And islands of the fading day. 

Embosomed in a lambent sea. 

Where glory into glory dies, 
Till all the West's a chancelrie 

For Nature's evening sacrifice. 

Fair vision of the ever blest, 

In thee her priestly powers conspire 
To show the end of final rest. 

And all that's noble in desire. 
[46] 



The choral beauty glowing there 
Hid in the heart of common things, 

With lordly hand she lays it bare, 
And, lo, it most divinely sings. 

It sings of the abysmal love, 

That weaves the cosmos in its spell, 

And, mirrored on the heavens above. 
Confutes blind chaos and his hell. 

With liturgies of voiceless trust 

That from her humblest still aspires; 

With offerings of mist and dust 
Wind blown above her altar fires ; 

She, reverent, lifts the imperial gates 
And lets her Prince's glory come; 

Tlie soul of things, immortal, waits. 
And I wait with it — like it — dumb. 



[47] 



A RAINY DAY IN OCTOBER 

!A11 day the fretful winds have swept 

In eddies overhead; 
!A11 day the low-hung clouds have wept 

Like mourners for the dead. 

The cricket hides within the wall 

And sings no vesper song; 
I only hear the raindrops fall, 

And winds wail all day long. 

I love the autumn time of year, 

The deep October sky, 
The bob-white's whistle, sharp and clear; 

The whip-poor-will's sad cry. 

I love the streams that steal along 
By woodlands touched with brown, 

The oak trees standing stark and strong, 
The leaves that flutter down. 

But, oh, these branches whipt and tossed, 
These sodden leaves and dead 

Are like the spirits of the lost 
Who ope the gates of Dread. 

Dread INlem'ry's gates wherein I go 
With strange reluctance shod, 

,To meet twin spectres whom I know — 
Myself — as brute and god. 

[48] 



iAnd one is fierce and very strong; 

And one is frail and fair; 
And one roars out a battle song; 

And one has only prayer. 

In vain the frenzied strength, in vain 

The brutal battle song; 
The storms of life with wind and rain 

Are stronger than the strong. 

Let him who can sing hymns to youth 
As man's most glorious prime; 

For me 'tis ever age's truth 
And manhood are sublime. 

My bark is in the heavy mist 

And sails to fairer day: 
The winds of God blow where they list, 

And I can only pray. 

October's fields of golden grain, 
October's garnered sheaves, 

Are still beyond the wind and rain 
And heaps of sodden leaves. 



[49] 



TO TWO LITTLE MAIDENS 

THE CHILDREN OF MRS. E. U. P. 

Sweet sovereigns from another clime 
Above this ruder reahn of time, 
We bend the knee to give to thee 
The homage of our fealty. 

Wider than our experience 
The kingdom of thy innocence, 
And through thy eyes we see arise 
Fair empires of Love's high emprise. 

We longing stoop to catch the bliss 
That waits us in thy trusting kiss, 
For thou art clean as the Unseen 
And royaler than king or queen. 

We wonder why ye strayed away 
From gardens of the gods of day, 
But bless the grace in each sweet face 
The light that lightens every place. 



[501 



TO MISS R. McC. 

For thee I pray that gentle ways 

May still be thine through length of days ; 

That hope professed 

May find its strength in faith confessed ; 

That riches true, 

Thou child of love, may go with you ; 

That every truth, 

And every grace 
May shine, dear Ruth, 

From thy sweet face. 

For grief's surcease, 
With heaven's own peace; 
And then always 
For God's good praise. 
Amen. 



[51] 



TO A BUTTERFLY 

O butterfly that swingest by, 
.Without a song, without a sigh, 
Upon my sight thy dreamy flight 
Flings only sensuous delight. 

Thou flashest o'er the brook that sings 
And stoopest where the thistle swings, 
But crystal brook and thistle green 
Are unto thee as the unseen. 

Thou dost not wake, thou dost not sleep, 
For nothing dost thou vigil keep ; 
Nor length nor breadth nor deep nor high 
Are in thy heart or in thine eye. 

What matters all thy gaudy coat. 
Thy beauty matchless when afloat. 
Thou mindless wanderer of the fields 
That always takes and never yields? 

With morning bom, with evening dead, 
A memory with ten thousand fled, 
Thou dancest in the summer's light, 
A little dance, and it is nisht. 



*)=>' 



Yet, vagrant from some fairy clime. 
And harbinger of summer time, 
Stretch wide thy wings thine every hour 
And fold them over every flower. 

[52] 



Thy beauty and thy wondrous grace 
But helps to hallow every place ; 
Thy thoughtlessness of coming doom 
Still leaves to thee a world in bloom. 



[53] 



THE CONCERTINA PLAYERi 

I wondered from what foreign strand 
Had come this alien to the race ; 

Nor Slav, nor Greek, nor Southron land 
Had writ a message on his face. 

His clothes were poor and worn and old, 
His wrinkled cheeks were dark with grime, 

And, slouching o'er the pavements cold. 
He seemed of neither place nor time. 

A concertina like himself 

He held within his dirty hands, 

And, idlj, for a little pelf. 

He played the tunes of many lands. 

The western sun began to slant. 

The crowd poured by in steady streams, 

And heeded not this mendicant 

Who moved as one that only dreams. 

I heard him o'er and o'er begin, 
And nothing held his fancy long, 

'Twas now a bit of ancient hymn. 
And now a snatch of comic song. 

But suddenly, as to and fro 

His lazy fingers touched the keys. 

The nasal tones, now high, now low. 
He hoped some idling ear would please, 

[54] 



Swept on into a nobler bar 

For which the player had not planned, 
And, lo, the mighty voice of war 

Ranfc through a desolated land. 



't> 



The street, the city and the crowd 

Passed instant from my startled glance, 

No more the slouching figure bowed. 
But rose and stood, incarnate France. 

As all the years of struggling truth 
Beneath his fingers sang their pain, 

Some spirit of immortal j^outh 
Had set him with his own again. 

I heard the voice of crazed alarms, 
A people's who had been betrayed ; 

I heard the call of wrath to arms 

For rights that would not be delayed. 

I heard a nation's heavy groans; 

I saw the streets with blood run red; 
And then the rending crash of thrones 

Where kings forget the right to bread. 

Like one who from some organ brings 
The martyr's voice of ancient praise ; 

So they who once had slaughtered kings 
Came forth and sang the Marseillaise — 

And I sang with them — all the ghosts 
Who sang that song of war and death ; 
[55] 



And I heard singing all the hosts 

Who yet shall breathe the common breath. 

The western sun was far aslant; 

The crowd ceased pouring by in streams ; 
Still stood this lonely mendicant 

And idly played as one that dreams. 



[56] 



NEW YEAR'S EVE 

TWO VOICES 

/ will mock when your fear comefh.** 

Stop, for a year lies dying; 

Silence, a year is dead ; 
Fierce on the North-wind flying 

Soundeth a voice of dread; 
" I am the soul of your years, 

Troubled and tempest-tossed; 
I speak the voice of your fears 

And moan for worlds you lost." 

Jcy the breath of midnight ; 

Cold the stars in the sky; 
Ghostly the glare of moonlight 

When the old-year must die; 
Ghastly the forms that daunt me ; 

Pale hands flit over my brow ; 
Curses and prayers that haunt me 

Mingle about -me now. 

E'en though a year be dying, 

E'en though a year be dead. 
Deathless the dead come crying, 

Swathed in their mantles red: 
"Graves for thy mem'ries? Never. 

Tombs where thy sins can hide? 
Ever more and forever 

They in the world abide. 

[67] 



" Gaunt, the spectre of famine 

Walks the earth for thy greed; 
Hunger itself shall examine 

Deeds thou hast done that bleed; 
Lust, that recks not of sorrow. 

Shrieks in thy maniac glee, 
Cursing each man's to-morrow 

As long as men shall be. 

" Souls of immortal evil 

Breathed their life from thee, 
While thy hand for the devil 

Played with eternity. 
Who, O man, shall deliver.? 

Where is he can release.'' 
Ages to come shall shiver 

To measure thy sin's increase." 



[58] 



" Behold I Make All Things New." 

Over the phantoms dismal 

Crying for sin's surcease; 
Out of the deeps abysmal 

Cometh the voice of peace ; 
Cometh the WORD eternal: 

" Sorrow alone hath sufficed; 
I am the way supernal; 

I am the living Christ. 

" Trust, and thou shalt receive Me, 

Even under the rod ; 
Love, and thou shalt conceive Me, 

Fair as the will of God. 
Lo, I am with thee alway ; 

Rise, I bid thee to stand; 
Forward into the new day ; 

Fear not, I am at hand." 

Onward then. Christian, onward, 

Courage upon thy brow ; 
Onward, O Christian, onward, 

Christ is beside thee now. 
Take the sword of the spirit ; 

Faith be thy flag unfurled ; 
Into thy future nor fear it, 

God is King of the world. 



[59] 



IN RESPONSE TO A MESSAGE FROM W. G. 

The Winter's snows are the winding sheet 
Where Spring's sweet promise now lies dead; 

And the flowers we seek with eager feet 
We never grasp till the bloom has fled. 

There's a Lure that paints our future fair 
And the boy's heart leaps in noble rage ; 

But we only walk where the visions were 
With the feeble steps of a palsied age. 

Oh, reluctant hand of heartless Fate, 

Whose only gift is an unshed tear, 
Our hopes grow old, and they fruit too late 

But Love is young at seventy 3'ear. 

I ask not Time with his scythe and glass 
For the earth beneath or sky above; 

With Time they came and with Time they pass, 
And I am rich if I have but Love. 



[60] 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN, ON THE 94TH ANNIVERSARY 

OF HIS BIRTH 

He stood amidst the breaking waves 
Of human passions, fierce and wild. 

And knew the only strength that saves. 
And used it simply as a child. 

Uncouth, unpolished and unschooled, 

Let sages learn from him again; 
He knew the human heart and ruled 

As one who loves liis fellow man. 

I see his mighty figure — dim 

And misty through a nation's tears; 

How beauteous are the feet of him — 
The choicest of a thousand years. 

"God give us men?" Nay, give us God 

In men who do His high behest ; 
And walk in faith beneath the rod 

Like him, this giant of the West. 

Come, Langton and ye barons old — ■ 
And all ye heroes — from the gloom. 

Come forth from death and dust and mold, 
And lay your Charter on his tomb. 

Ye saw a vision of free men. 

And nobly dreamed with hand on sword ; 

His was the hand whose fearless pen 
Completed the Eternal's word. 
[61] 



O people, called again to strive, 

Break forth to singing for his birth; 

The Lord is God, and He will drive 

The shadows from this war-worn earth. 



[62] 



THE MYSTERY OF SUFFERING 

To be a bard and sing my song — 
A prophet with a vision new — 

To rise above the middle throng 

And walk with heaven and earth in view ; 

To see the things that none can see 

Save only the anointed kings; 
To be the thing that none can be 

Whose profit is in little things ; 

To own the earth and sky with God; 

Dominion have on land and sea — 
For this I'll bend beneath the rod 

And kiss the hand that chastens me. 

And when, through all life's agony. 
My clouded vision has grown clear, 

And mine's the changeless harmony 
Of perfect faith without a fear. 

Lord, send me forth to speak to them — 
Thy children, kindred to the clods — 

And set them in Thy diadem, 

And make them brothers to the gods. 



[63] 



And yet I am not alone because the Father is with me '* 

There is a faith that's writ in blood and tears, 
[And, though it knows the failures of the years, 
Still rests on Providence and feels no fears. 

There is a trust that never stands alone, 

And, though it hears the whole world's bitter moan, 

With cloudless eyes sees God upon His throne. 

Wake, soul of mine, and cease not to aspire ; 
Fill up thy night with light of heavenly fire; 
Seek comradeship amongst the souls up higher. 

Reach hands to angels of the upper sphere; 
Draw near to things divine and yet more near, 
Till perfect love has cast out ev'ry fear. 

Until thy World is filled with holy powers, 
And Nature gives thee ages for thy hours, 
And God shall say to thee of all things — ours. 



[64] 



ON MEETING A BLIND MAN IN THE STREET 

I met him on a quiet street 

Where he and I were all alone; 
And rhythmic with his patient feet 

His stick kept tapping on the stone. 

I stopped and watched him on his way, 
I watched his stumbles and his slips, 

And something seemed to bid me pray. 
And something froze it on my lips. 

He knew the darkness that had been 

Before God said : " Let there be light ; " 

While I the shining world had seen, 
And all the splendor of the night. 

He had the look of one that prays ; 

His face was old with more than years; 
His solemn, sphinx-like, sightless gaze 

Seemed seeing things too sad for tears. 

He almost touched me as he went ; 

He could have laid his hand in mine; 
Yet all the lighted firmament. 

And all the plan of things divine. 

Came whisp'ring to me : " You can see 

And he will never see again," 
And stretched between us — him and me — - 

A void too vast for my amen. 

[65] 



What word had I who owned the day 
For him whose loss I'd never known? 

He asked not me to point the way, 
He only asked the paving stone. 

And yet a cheer was in his face, 
A child-like trust it almost seemed. 

The subtle, strange, unconscious grace 
Of one who sweetly slept and dreamed. 

And so he went adown the street 
A blind man walking all alone. 

And, with a steady rhythmic beat, 
His stick kept tapping on the stone. 

UOFC. 



[66] 



THE QUESTION 

Look up and down this weary earth 
And mark that aged working man, 

Whose only joy is clownish mirth, 
Whose only law — to take who can. 

God gave him health and grace and might, 

A supple form, a noble brow, 
And in the simple faith of right 

He set his strong hand to the plow. 

And so for sixty years he wrought 

In Summer's shine and Winter's snow. 

And held his very soul for naught. 
And watched a hoard of dollars grow. 

He never looked to see a flower ; 

He breathed no glory from the skies ; 
The rainbow with the sun and shower. 

Ne'er shone resplendent for his eyes. 

His only thought was age's need. 
His only battles, with the clods, 

His only inspiration, greed. 
And honesty and toil his gods. 

Behold him now his work is done. 
And he the product of his 3^ears ; 

For all his labours — one by one — 

Have turned to jest his sweat and tears. 

[67] 



The oak tree when it comes to die 

Still bravely speaks of Nature's plan; 

Before her throne I stand and cry ; 

" What mean ye by this finished man? " 

This man whose sixty years of life 
Deny all prophecies of j^outh ; 

Who never shirked the honest strife, 
Nor deemed himself untrue to truth. 

He came in beauty and in grace, 
The richest fruitage of all time. 

With something godlike in his face, 
And all his promises sublime. 

And now he goes a tottering slave 
Nor wonders why his life began, 

Write on a headstone for his grave ; 
" He lived and died an honest man." 

Look up and down this weary earth, 
And tell me, if you truly can. 

If Nature ever brought to birth 
One sadder than tliis working man. 



[68] 



TO A POETESS AT EIGHTY YEARS 

O heart of mine rejoice, rejoice, 

And hope dry up thy tears. 
For lo, a loving living voice 

That sings at eighty years. 

She knows the sorrows that appall, 

The miseries and fears; 
God bless the heart that through It all 

Still sings at eighty years. 

The glory of the world she sees, 

Its harmony she hears; 
She looks and listens — on her knees, 

And sings at eighty years. 

Sing then the songs of eighty years, 

For love is ever young. 
And life is more than yet appears 

Or songs would ne'er be sung. 

So strike for love and life thy lyre ; 

What thou receivest, give, 
And sing with all the heavenly choir: 

To love is but to live. 



[69] 



A CHRISTMAS GREETING TO MY WIFE 

Give me thy love. — It is enough 
E'en on this natal day of Clmst 

That thou in me and I in thee 

Have found the strength that hath sufficed. 

Anidst a world that little cares 
What joys or soitows may betide, 

Be thou for me and I for thee, 

I still the bridegroom, thou the bride. 

As hand in hand and heart to heart, 

Though age may touch our heads with snow, 

Nor wrinkled face nor tottering step 
Shall dim or darken love's sweet glow, 

Together up the heavenly steeps 
To visions fair our hopes fore-tell, 

I seeing through thine e3'es and mine. 

And thou through thine and mine as well. 

What raptures can the heavens contain 
That death or hell can take away. 

When I have mine in thy true heart 
And thou hast thine in mine alway? 

What could I bring and give to thee 
That wouldst not savour of the earth? 

Nor flasliing gem nor jewel rare 

Could mark the measure of thy wortli. 

[70] 



.What couldst thou bring and give to me 
Wrought by thy hand or bought with pelf. 

When I have ever as mine own 

Love's fullest gift — ^thy own dear self? 

So let us live, so let us die, 

So let us join th' eternal throng, 

Tliat all the music of our life 

Shall blend at once in heaven's song. 



[71] 



TO MY PIPE 

They tell me Death sits in thy bowl, 

O my pipe; 
With power to soothe and damn my soul, 

O my pipe; 
'Tis wondrous what the devil owns 
Beyond his realm of aches and groans 
And vanities that grace bemoans, 

O my pipe. 

I feel within the gentle thrill, 

O my pipe; 
Of perfect peace and all good will, 

O my pipe; 
The doctors say 'twill make me ill. 
The preachers say my soul 'twill kill. 
But all my nature loves thee still, 

O my pipe. 

Come, give me one more draw at thee, 

O my pipe; 
Till in thy foamy clouds I see, 

O my pipe; 
Fair dreams of things that stir my heart : - 
The songs of peace, the hopes of art ; 
O thou and I can never part, 

O my pipe. 



[72] 



OUR BUNGALOW 

Wliere Ocean's tides swing to and fro ; 

Where all its balmy breezes blow ; 

And where the flowers and grasses grow ; 

Just there, you see 
Our humble little bungalow 

Rise modestly. 

Before it lies the sandy plain, 

And round it rolls the mighty main, 

Thun'dring for aye its slow refrain 

Of music grand ; 
The solemn planetary strain 

Of sea and land. 

No battlements nor lordly towers, 

Fit emblems of wealth's prideful powers, 

In gloomy splendor fiercely lowei-s 

Above its roof; 
But all the stormy winds and showers 

It keeps aloof. 

And all the glory of the day 

Falls freely round its walls of gray ; 

And here the children come to play 

With new delights. 
While Nature's warblers sing their lay 

Like Freedom's sprites. 



[73] 



When from behind the clouds at night 
The hurrying moon hastes in her flight, 
She marks a flaming path of light 

The waters o'er, 
And tips each crested wave with white 

Along our shore. 

And from that lowly cottage door 
Th' expanding soul finds room to soar, 
Up from the earth to heaven's floor 

'Tis all our own ; 
.When hearts are kingly, who wants more? 

We have a throne. 

Now peace be on thy humbleness; 
Here ma^"^ content ne'er find distress ; 
Here friends find warmer friendliness 

Than e'er before; 
Till even strangers stop to bless 

Thy open door. 



[7i] 



UNFINISHED FRAGMENT 

The hills and the valleys follow 
Like the waves of a coming sea, 

And through the rift of the clouds that drift 
The sun shines gloriously. 

The com and the wheat are standing 

In green and gold array, 
And the waving grass in the winds that pass 

Is blue as the deeps of day. 

The oaks and the elms are waving 
As their leaves beat up and down. 

And they softly sing of the passing spring 
And the Autumn's royal brown. 

Beyond the mellow distance 

The black horizon lies; 
Like an iron girth it belts the earth 

And rims the hollow skies. 

Note: — Written the evening before he was stricken. 



[75] 



MAH II 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 988 966 A C^ 



